Summoning Silences : The SuperNova ✔

IV

Part I
Chapter - 4

Nova had been the most ordinary child we knew. Or perhaps he was not ordinary in the slightest. I had heard from his peers who knew him since elementary school. Nova too had started like any other child. His progress had been ever so gradual. One day he was learning how to read and play. And the other day, he had been good at it. Then he was better; then excellent; then the best. He was better than any of us. Most days.

He had been hanging out with some seniors. They kept him engaged, especially when he realized that his skill set would not compare to any of ours. He did not abandon his mates, nor did they abandon him. He was always seeking what felt right to his heart, it was a struggle to see him suffering, internally, with himself.

I had always looked up to him. Nothing special, he was often looked up to. To how he lived his life. To how he made his own decision. I had thought, under the moonlight, that in a few years, I and him would be on equal footing. When I would have a job (if only part-time) I could call mine, to help my mother, to raise our little family, hang out like adults, not be ashamed of anything, be braver than myself, have money, to finally go out like everyone else.

But now, the person I waited to be compared to was gone. Forever. Or perhaps he was lost. And nobody could meet him now. Nobody could find him.

My friends decided that we would walk to the subway. I was at the center frequently, but today I dragged by the end. I was thinking, thinking about what Nova originally liked. Where his heart had lied. I knew the answers, I believed in it, because I had known him the best. Perhaps, not the longest—but chances are, that I did know him the best.

Mom returned late that night. I went to bed early. Through a nibbling sensation, like sleepy lightheadedness, I had heard her enter. My eyes only opened a fraction as they could not adjust to the brightness of the hallway, but my ears were not as passive. She was on a call. And she was distressed. Perhaps we were to face another rough month ahead. Together. At least we would be together.

I did not have to wait too long for my answers. The next day, I heard that they had finalized the guitarist for the stage performance. Even before someone spoke it, I knew that Nova was one amongst them. I was happy. And then I was not. He had also enlisted his name to be on the basketball team, and they had taken him in. And then it was volunteering on Sundays, and assisting with the student council.

They did not understand. I did. He was sick. He was very sick. His wounds were deeper than what they could mark on his skin. They were worst than how he could hurt himself if he kept it up. He was not listening to himself anymore. He was confused now, when it came to understanding where his heart lied. But that was not even the worst.

I had realized it. Yet, I chose to do nothing. Don’t be persistent, I was told. And so, I had waited. And what I had suspected to become true began to materialize itself in not more than a week from when it was announced that they would start practicing. 

In any typical circumstance, any person who offered aid for any more than a single sport would wear himself out in at most a week. It is hard to concentrate when your body is torn apart from fatigue, and your mind repays. But what about a person who was already demolished emotionally? I was witnessing it. It was Nova. Perhaps, he lasted a single day.

He was merely feigning joy. He was pretending that he was enjoying it all. And he was doing it well. Had we not had our conversation where he spoke of his dreams and aspirations, I would have believed that I was keeping myself deluded. That he was perfectly alright. He was not lost.

But within the proximities I resided in, it was hard to believe it. It was hard to ignore that he was tired. He was running out of fuel. Some people had already started muttering that perhaps, it was not his day. He had obviously dropped more passes than the pats he received. They decided to let him be. And then they decided to bench him the next day. The third day, he was not even called upon to play.

I watched it all. He might not have noticed me, but I was watching it all from the distance. I could see what the other players could not. That he was doing good, indeed. He was doing good keeping it together. It was not his fault that they held basketball practices at the end of the day. When he had bottled it all up, and was just ready to burst. I felt bad, because I was watching him hurt from the corner, and I could not do anything. I could not help him.

They discussed pushing him off the team. In any other instance, or with any perspective other than what I had now, I would have agreed. He needed to rest, and there was no other way to put it ‘gently’. But not now. I understood that pushing him off the team because he could not do good enough; or more like because he was not his ‘good enough' self, could only thrust him down the cliff. It could do more harm than good. I knew it, because his knuckles—which became stiff and white when he clutched his knees—talked to me.

Even that was not the end of it. It was only a little while, before I heard that his performance had only been deteriorating in the other spheres as well. His music had gone bad, and he was more of a liability than an aid where he promised to volunteer. Everyone talked about it, but not many were concerned.

I could not take it anymore. I promised him space and time, but that had only worked to drive him to ruin even more. Don’t be persistent—

And for the first time, I shut that noise inside my head.

I had seen him walk out the main exit. It was like seeing him drag baggage of burden in the shape of his body; his feet did not lift from the ground. I pushed through the crowd calling his name. He did not turn, he did not react. They all witnessed how reckless I was, but it had nothing to do with Nova. When I was finally behind him, I tugged on his shoulder and yanked him to my side. He yet did not turn. He readily fell over my body, his feet giving away, like he had been waiting to be called, perhaps by my voice. He had trusted I would come, and I did.